Injured Sentiments
by kaelleigh
Summary: After a near tragedy, there has to be a hospital scene. WarGriss. SLASH. Not graphic. Only talks about an established relationship.


Title: Injured Sentiments  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: G/W  
  
Spoilers: Brief ones for Cool Change, Boom, and In the Box  
  
Category: Established relationship, angst  
  
Summary: After a near-tragedy, there has to be a hospital scene.  
  
Feedback - kudos, comments or constructive criticism - is always welcome.  
  
Notes: Merc and Trev asked and I thought I'd deliver. You can learn a lot from watching first season DVDs.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Bruckheimer, Alliance Atlantis, and CBS are the lucky ones.  
  
Warrick Brown hated hospitals. He hated the nerve-wracking sounds, the high- medicinal smells, the low-flavor food, the snarky doctors, the perky nurses and the rock-hard beds, but most of all, he really hated being a patient. Granted, he'd only been on this side of the bed a couple of times, but those times had left enough of an impression. He'd been lucky that those past visits had been little more than overnights.  
  
Being a recovered gambler, Warrick could say with all honesty that luck didn't seem to be on his side this time.  
  
When he had awakened, he'd hoped this visit would be as short as his others, but it didn't look like he was going to get his wish. It had been three days since he'd opened his eyes to see the grinning face of Nick Stokes and the docs were still refusing to even discuss a possible release date. Whenever he'd bring it up, they'd evade the question and then joke about Warrick not appreciating their hospitality.  
  
Of course appreciation only went so far when you couldn't find one damn comfortable position.  
  
Squinting up at the bright fluorescent lights, Warrick reluctantly admitted that maybe he was being a little too harsh. Nasty, mind-numbing pain could do that to a person. Happy, joyful thoughts were not his priority - pain- free breathing was.  
  
Getting shot was a pain in the ass. It was definitely not something he ever wanted to do again - not that he "did" it this time. Thanks to a miss- reading of the signs by a rookie officer on Brass' team, the "all clear" had been sounded before all of the shooters had been gathered. Warrick and the B team had walked in unsuspecting. Within ten minutes, two officers, one guy from the coroner's office and Warrick were down.  
  
He didn't remember much after the first hit, but Nick had supplied him with all of the gory details in a way that only a highly-trained CSI could. The four guys had been stuck there for almost forty-five minutes before a second "all clear" had been issued. By that time, the coroner's assistant and one of the cops had bled out and Warrick and the other cop were pretty close to it.  
  
Nick had paled and his eyes teared when he explained how bad things were for a while. It had definitely shaken Warrick - very little rattled Nicky. Except for spying stalkers and crazed wives pointing guns in his face, Nick was normally on an even keel.  
  
Judging by the steady stream of his friends from the night shift through his hospital room, they'd all been rattled at how close he'd come to being their next assignment.  
  
It was definitely enough to make a man think. Enough to cause him to get his priorities straight. Enough to figure out what was important. Enough to make him forget all of the macho bullshit and just admit how he felt.  
  
It was enough to make him pick up the phone and place a call to the one person who hadn't visited, but that he needed most to see. His request had been simple and he'd felt better after hearing the acceptance. Warrick tried not to dwell on the fact that the invitation had to be offered - he just focused on what needed to be said, what he needed to say.  
  
"I'm here," a voice intoned from the doorway.  
  
Warrick couldn't stop the warmth that spread through his battered body at the uttering of those simple words. His eyes slowly rose until he could take in everything about the person that seemed to be leaning casually against the doorframe. "Hey, Gil," he offered with equal parts welcome and fear. Warrick was a little shocked to see how drained Grissom looked - he almost seemed like he'd aged since he'd last seen him. "You can come in, you know."  
  
Gil Grissom pulled away from the door and headed further in the room as if he was the one in pain. "I know." He sat down in one of the chairs next to the bed and looked down at his hands. "I just ."  
  
Pressing the button on his remote, Warrick held back his painful groan as the upper part of the bed raised. He finally reached the point where he could somewhat comfortably look his friend in the eyes - if said eyes would lift. "You just what?"  
  
Shaking his head as if to erase what he'd started top say, Gil glanced up and flinched a little when his eyes locked with the other man's. "You're looking . better, Ricky."  
  
"As compared to what?"  
  
"As compared to looking dead. There were a few days there where we weren't sure if it was a permanent look or not."  
  
"Oh. Yeah. I guess this look is definitely an improvement on that." Not liking the direction the conversation was taking, Warrick decided he needed an answer to something that had been bothering him since he awakened. "Everybody told me that you stayed with me as much as you could - even when I was in ICU. They said that when the nurses threw you out, you just headed down to the waiting room and crashed there until you could come back. They told me you gave the follow-up to Catherine and never even checked in to see how it was going."  
  
"Everybody obviously has big mouths," Grissom commented, frowning. "Since you know all that from 'everybody', what do you want to know? Where are you going with this?"  
  
Warrick shrugged, "It just seemed strange that after all of that, I haven't seen you since I've been awake. I mean, if you were that diligent while I was out, wouldn't it be logical to assume you'd be just as attentive once I could appreciate it?"  
  
"Well, you know how I feel about assuming. But, in this case, it would be safe to 'assume' that line of logic."  
  
This wasn't what Warrick wanted to hear and his usual control had been lost in the sea of painkillers. "Dammit, Gil, cut with the scientist crap. I don't need Dr. Gilbert Grissom in here right now. I need Gil."  
  
"And therein lays the problem. I *am* Dr. Gilbert Grissom, scientist. I don't just hand off incomplete cases to coworkers because my lover almost d." The word was cut off with a harsh, ragged breath. Grissom took a deep breath and continued, ignoring the slight shakiness in his speech. "Gil was a figment - a brief experiment in trying to be human. It wasn't me."  
  
"What do you mean it wasn't you? I was there, remember? I was the one who was right beside you - feeling everything with you, watching you come alive. You can't fake something like that."  
  
Grissom's expression was cut from stone, but his eyes burned with a deep sorrow. "Maybe not, but that wasn't me. I'm not comfortable with that person. I'm not comfortable with how that person made me feel." His strained laugh sounded painful. "To be perfectly honest, I'm not comfortable with feeling." His gaze dropped down to his clenched hands as he whispered, "You almost died - I almost lost you."  
  
"But you didn't."  
  
"But I could have and I . can't handle how that makes me feel. I'm just not cut out to feel."  
  
This couldn't be happening. Warrick couldn't believe he was hearing Grissom. "Gil, it's not all bad. This was a fluke - an accident caused by human error. You can't base anything on this because it won't happen again."  
  
"Maybe not this type of situation, but, with our jobs, who's to say you won't end up getting exposed to something you shouldn't or getting blown up or . ending up like Holly." Grissom stood, shaking his head and walked over to the window. "I can't live with that. It's a pain I'm not willing to endure."  
  
"Are you listening to yourself, Gil? Are you listening to how illogical you sound?" Warrick felt like he was pleading - if not for his life, then his soul. "Who's to say that I won't walk across the strip and get hit by a tour bus or go in to cash a check and take one in the back just because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time? It's just a chance you have to take - there are no guarantees."  
  
Grissom turned back so he was facing Warrick, his body language conveying his confidence that his actions were right while his eyes relayed how much this was tearing him apart. "That's why I'm a scientist and not a gambler. I don't like chances - too much randomness, too many variables, too much emotion."  
  
"So," Warrick cleared his throat hoping to hold back the choking feeling, "what exactly are you saying?"  
  
"I'm saying . it has to end - here and now."  
  
"And it doesn't matter at all that I love you? That this last year has been the most fantastic of my life."  
  
Grissom seemed to shrink just a little at the pain in those words, but then he squared his shoulders and looked Warrick straight in the eyes. "No." He took a deep breath, "I'd hoped that this conversation could wait until you were a little further in your recovery, but, when you called, I knew it couldn't."  
  
"Yeah, thanks for your concern." Warrick wasn't above sarcasm, especially not in this. Ignoring the pain that the motion brought, he sat up straighter in the bed and carefully controlled his voice - he'd fall apart later. "I'll have Nick stop by your place and get my stuff tomorrow. He won't give you any grief - unlike Catherine and they're the only two who have keys to my place."  
  
"There's no hurry."  
  
Keeping this conversation was becoming harder and harder and Warrick couldn't handle much more. He needed Gi - no, Grissom gone as soon as possible. "Well, according to you, it ends here and now. No sense dragging it out and since they won't give me a clue when I'll be getting out of here, it's for the best." He could feel the shakiness of exhaustion and pain increasing and he wanted to be alone when his body did collapse. "If there's nothing else, Nick will bring you my key when he comes for my stuff."  
  
As the finality seemed to register, Grissom slowly headed toward the door. "For what it's worth, Rick, I am sorry. I wish it didn't have to be like this."  
  
The broken, pained voice drifted out into the hallway after the older man, "The sad thing is, Gil, I know."  
  
Ende 


End file.
